


Chapter 18.5, AKA Fjord Finally Fucks

by RyeBread



Series: Not a Patron [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Feelings first sexy second, Frottage, Hand Jobs, If you read Not a Patron Not a Benefactor this long you know the damn deal, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mostly a lot of feelings and shit followed by actually getting off, Non-Penetrative Sex, The long awaited sex, loosely speaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeBread/pseuds/RyeBread
Summary: Here you go, you filthy animals.





	Chapter 18.5, AKA Fjord Finally Fucks

**Author's Note:**

> I figure Caleb for somewhere on the ace-spectrum, and certainly not sex-repulsed, while Fjord is Very Gay.

With Caleb pressed against his side, shirtless and warm, Fjord's certainly not going to say no. He swallows hard, "Yeah, yeah I'm up for it."

"That's good," Caleb says at his ear, drawing out a whole body shiver from Fjord. "Where would you like me to touch you?"

Fjord's brain gives a valiant effort at processing only to spark and fizzle out when the words it helpfully provides try to leave his mouth. "Anywhere," he manages to force out through the feedback loop of desire and nervous energy.

Caleb rolls over, straddling Fjord's waist to lean over him. "Well that doesn't really narrow things down. May I touch you here?" he asks, running his fingers across Fjord's cheek.

"Don't tease me now," Fjord grunts, and he's careful to keep it a playful protest, but he can't help looking away. Or, he tries to, but Caleb gently pushes his head back.

"I'm not." Caleb adjusts his position, still mostly on his knees, but relaxing a little more of his weight on Fjord's belly. "Do you know what I noticed first about you, Fjord?"

"My sexy baritone?"

"Your eyes," Caleb says, undaunted. "They're very striking. Looking down at me from beneath such a strong brow." Caleb runs his fingers down from Fjord's temple, across his cheek, and stopping at his jaw. "You are very handsome, you know."

"I may have heard that before," Fjord says, resting his hands against Caleb's thighs. Caleb looks down, smiles, and very deliberately moves Fjord's hands up and around his waist. He gives them a reassuring pat.

"You may touch me, as well," Caleb says, and puts his hands on Fjord's shoulders. "Anywhere," he echoes.

"Really?" Fjord asks, sliding his hands up to Caleb's ribs. "Here?"

"Certainly?" Caleb says, amused, but wariness curling the statement upward into a question.

"Like... this?" Fjord asks, lightly pinching, dancing his fingers along the thin skin over Caleb's ribs.

Caleb looses a garbled string of noises, swears, and pleas--writhing and clamping his arms down over Fjord's hands to trap them against his sides. Fjord still has enough maneuverability in his finger to dig between the bumps of his ribs, making Caleb thrash a little harder while Fjord laughs uproariously; until he worries about Caleb accidentally—or not accidentally—hitting him somewhere tender and relents. Caleb gasps in a breath, eyes wet and face as red as Fjord has ever seen it. “Are you _twelve_?” Caleb demands, still hyper ventilating. 

“You said I could touch you anywhere,” Fjord says.

Caleb, still breathing hard through his nose, raises his eyebrows. “So did you.”

Fjord’s eyes widen, ready to warn Caleb that he might accidentally buck him right off the bed if he does something unexpected, but is far too slow. Caleb catches a nipple through Fjord’s shirt with the knuckles of his middle and index finger. Fjord yelps, “Ow, fuck, Christ, I’m sorry!” Caleb lets go almost instantly, but Fjord pouts and rubs his chest tenderly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, liebling,” Caleb coos, “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Fjord flushes, “And if I said yes?”

Caleb doesn’t answer, instead lifting himself up on his knees enough to pull up the hem of Fjord’s tanktop, running his hands up the expanse of Fjord’s stomach. He settles back down, ass over Fjord’s groin so gently and deliberately that it couldn’t be an accident. There’s a moment where Caleb just studies his uncovered belly, which Fjord is a little conscious of being maybe not as tight as one might expect of a frequent swimmer. And not-as-tight translating to hanging over his pants if he doesn’t tuck his shirt into them. Fjord opens his mouth to say something or crack a joke when Caleb mutters, “You are so handsome.”

Fjord swallows a disbelieving word of thanks, puts his hands back on Caleb’s waist, and says instead, “You’re pretty damn hot yourself.”

“I’m a hairy old man,” Caleb states, but he’s laughing as he says it and he has something of a glimmer in his eyes, so Fjord reigns in the protest in favor of letting Caleb push his shirt up to his chin. The warm air of the bedroom is still enough to make him shiver. Caleb holds the shirt up with his left hand, sliding his right up to Fjord’s chest. He gently cups Fjord’s pec, leaning down, “I’m sorry for pinching you.”

Fjord sucks in a breath when he feels the warmth of Caleb’s mouth on him. His fingers flex tightly over Caleb’s ribs when the man licks his nipple gently. “You’re forgiven.”

Caleb hums, which makes Fjord’s toes curl since he currently has his nipple between his teeth. He pulls away, thumbing the now hard nub absently. “That’s good, then?”

“Hyeah, I’d say so.” Fjord rolls his hips, in case Caleb had somehow missed the dick pressing against his ass.

“Would you kiss me?” Caleb asks, and Fjord doesn’t need to wait for him to finish the sentence before he’s meeting his lips. Caleb’s are already wet, sliding against Fjord’s. They’ve been good and chaste for weeks now, the deepest they’d gotten before being that first time against the kitchen counters. He’s allowed to want this. Fjord licks Caleb’s bottom lip, encouraging Caleb to open his mouth. He’s so hungry for this he’s worried his stomach is going to rumble. Caleb, for his part, seems just as hot for it. His hand is back at Fjord’s chest, absently tweaking his nipple.

“I’ve been-“ Fjord breathes, “I’ve been thinking of this for a while.”

“Oh?” Caleb rolls his ass back, putting just the right of friction against Fjord’s dick through their clothing. “I couldn’t tell. You know there’s a saying about patience.”

Fjord grunts, trying very, very hard to not pull Caleb down onto him and rut against him. “That it’s a virtue? Cuz I gotta say, I don’t know if I’m the virtuous type.”

“Rousseau said that patience is bitter,” Caleb says. He scoots backward, perching himself on Fjord’s thighs, and lays his hand against Fjord’s straining cock. “But its fruit is sweet.”

“Caleb,” Fjord says, at once a plea and an invective. He’s a frayed nerve and Caleb’s hands against his dick feel so good it’s looped almost to painful. 

“That is my name.” Fjord feels Caleb’s fingers gripping the whole of him through the underwear, twitching to his elbows when he feels a thumb swipe his leaking tip. Caleb shoves him flat, not unkindly. “Let me do this for you.”

“Sure,” Fjord says, though it wasn’t a question. God that’s hot. 

Fjord’s underwear slips down his thighs, the waistband under his balls. At the first stroke against bare skin, Fjord has to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle a groan. “You’re tense,” Caleb observes. He doesn’t even sound out of breath for all the color that creeps down his chest. Caleb works his hands up and down Fjord’s shaft, and it’s smoothed a bit by pre-cum, but it still tugs just enough to be on the right side of painful. Fjord clenches his jaw tight, one hand at his mouth, the other clamped on Caleb’s thigh like a vice.

Fjord lets out a shuddering sigh when Caleb pauses. When he opens his eyes, dimly remembering he had closed them at some point, Caleb is leaning away, clenching his thighs around Fjord’s to keep his balance as he rummages through the drawer of his nightstand. “Looking for something?” Fjord asks, trying for teasing despite his sex-fogged brain.

“Just a moment,” Caleb mutters. He leans back, a small squeeze-bottle in hand. “Here.”

“My, the fancy estates lawyer keeps lube in his desk,” Fjord says.

“The fancy estate lawyer keeps coconut oil moisturizer in his desk.”

“That uh, that doesn’t mix well with condoms,” Fjord says, and the fog is lifting a little. 

Caleb shrugs, “Were condoms on the itinerary tonight? I mean no offense, but I fully intended to get you off with my hands.”

“That’s not- that’s not _off_ the table,” Fjord stammers. “I just uh, in case _you_ wanted- or...”

“There are other options that don’t require a condom,” Caleb says, and the more the fog in his head lifts the more aware Fjord becomes that they’re having this conversation with his whole dick out and Caleb looming above him on his knees. “I could have you beneath me, get you off with my thigh. Or we could retrieve something from my toy box, if you would prefer that. Or we could get a condom and I could suck you off, though I’ll admit I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Caleb,” Fjord starts, then he pauses, “toy box?” He shakes his head. A question for later. “Never mind. What about you?”

“I... I told you that I don’t, I don’t always have the drive...” Caleb looks suddenly skittish, which is not what Fjord wants. Still he thought that Caleb, even with what he’d said at the cafe, was interested tonight. 

Fjord frowns, “No, that’s fine, but I don’t want to- I want you to be getting something out of this.” He starts to pull up his underwear, despite the uncomfortable dampness to them.

Caleb takes his wrist, encouraging him to stop. “Fjord, really, this is what I want. I apologize for not being clear.”

This whole thing is making Fjord kind of antsy. “I thought that you’d turn me down if you weren’t feeling it,” Fjord says.

“I am,” Caleb says, then clarifies, “feeling it, that is. I want nothing more than to see you twisting under me, so overcome that you can’t speak. I would like to see you come apart because of me, come apart for me. I told you, I am a selfish man.”

Caleb’s voice, dropped low like that, is certainly making Fjord reconsider covering himself. “I’m not opposed,” he says, gulping. 

“Then will you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Caleb smiles, a broad thing that lifts most of the lingering doubt in Fjord’s head and heart. “Then put your hands on me. Touch me. Let me feel that you want me.”

Fjord isn’t one to deny that kind of request, not from Caleb. He embraces the permission to explore this time. The thatch of hair across his stomach and up across his chest, red and curly. It’s darker below his navel. Fjord runs his fingers through it, reveling in the texture of the skin beneath as a smooth contrast to the thick mat of hair. As always, Caleb radiates heat, and with his shirt discarded, Fjord can feel it full force. Caleb doesn’t dissuade him from sitting up this time, so Fjord presses his face to Caleb’s chest, nosing against his sternum. 

Caleb gently nudges him back for a moment, lifting Fjord’s arms to get his shirt off properly. That barrier removed, Fjord pulls Caleb into an embrace, kissing at the base of his throat. Caleb chuckles, whispering, “Tickles,” while stroking the stubble at the back of Fjord’s head where he’d shorn it in close. 

Caleb’s deceptively thick, for all Fjord has thought of him as a frail pencil-pusher. He’s not muscular, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he has substance to him. Broad shoulders, wide chest, and a handful of ass for a white guy. Fjord puts his hands under said ass, squeezing firmly before rocking Caleb up and forward. The drag of Caleb’s soft sweatpants against his half-hard dick makes Fjord moan into Caleb’s chest. “You smell good,” Fjord mumbles, tucking his head under Caleb’s chin.

“Thank you, it’s the German musk,” Caleb jokes. He threads his fingers into the longer hair at the crown of Fjord’s head. “Would you like me to take my pants off?”

“Please?” Fjord asks, rocking his hips upward, steady and slow. 

“If you always ask so sweetly, how could I say no?” It’s a bit awkward to maneuver themselves, since they’re both reluctant to let go of each other. Eventually Caleb laughs, “Here, just a second.”

Fjord grumbles when Caleb rolls to his side, one hand still in Fjord’s hair while he tugs his sweats down with other. Fjord’s too close to see, but the soft shuff of them sliding down Caleb’s legs is maddening. He goes for a kiss, nipping lightly, distracting himself for a moment. Just enough so he won’t flip Caleb onto his back the second he hears the pants hit the floor. Then he does, and he does. Caleb grins up at him, hair spread across the pillowcase in auburn waves. 

“Eager, are you?” Caleb gestures Fjord back, into the same position Caleb had been in just a few moments before. “You may look, you know.”

And Fjord does. He rakes his eyes down from Caleb’s eyes to his chest, to his hips. Hips to groin, where Caleb’s dick lies among a surprisingly well-kept patch of hair considering the wild curls everywhere else. He’s half-hard. Fjord shuffles back, moving to instead lay on his stomach between Caleb’s legs.

“Fjord, you don’t have to-“ Caleb starts to say, but then Fjord licks a line up Caleb’s sack to the base of his dick and the rest of the sentence is cut off by a sharp gasp. Fjord paws at Caleb, stroking him lightly while licking at his base. Caleb is chewing at his lip with his head thrown back against the pillow, but he’s not getting much harder. So Fjord slides his left hand up, over Caleb’s belly and the thick hair, to his chest. He flicks his thumb over Caleb’s nipple, then spreads his hand wide over the whole of Caleb’s chest. “Ah, Fjord, that feels-“

Fjord hums, his nose pressed into Caleb’s groin while he kisses his way across the soft skin, stopping short of the head. And he knows, he does, that this is not exactly safe. Not in all the ways he should be, but he trusts Caleb, more than he should. The heavy, heady smell of Caleb isn’t the best thing for keeping a clear head, either. Still, he can at least pretend he’s doing due diligence. He feels a throb in the dick beneath his lips and smiles. “So much for not in the mood,” he says, putting on as much of a rumble as he can manage.

“I still have nerves,” Caleb says, finally breathless, but he’s firm as he continues, “but don’t, ah, don’t be offended if it doesn’t last.”

Fjord tries to not take it to heart, but it is a little disappointing. Not a dealbreaker, though, not with the reality of Caleb under him, breathing hard and sweating, twitching his fingers in Fjord’s hair and stroking his cheek. He palms Caleb’s length and strokes him lightly as he crawls back up, meeting Caleb’s waiting mouth with his own. The angle isn’t perfect, not with Caleb being seven inches shorter and what height he has being mostly his legs. Still, Fjord has the room to thrust against him, sliding against the warm junction of leg meeting hip at the groin. Caleb rocks his thigh up in time with the thrusting, holding Fjord in a kiss as he moans. 

“Could you get off like this,” Caleb asks, though it’s more of a command. “Would you do that, for me? I love the feel of you—ah—pushing against me, wanting me.”

“Yeah,” Fjord says, still rolling down and forward, down and forward. He’s going to bite a hole clear through his cheek at this point. Caleb is so hot and slick, moving with him, saying everything he wants to hear. There’s a soft click from below him and Fjord looks down to see Caleb chewing his lip in concentration as he rubs the lotion between his hands, tossing the recapped bottle onto the mattress beside them. It takes Fjord a second to realize Caleb’s warming it before he gasps at the feel of the lotion on his dick, his hips stuttering as Caleb coats his length and smears an ample amount on his own thigh and stomach. “Fuck, Caleb, that’s nice.”

“Good,” Caleb whispers, first stroking then letting Fjord return to his rhythm. “You’re so good.”

Fjord’s back arcs when Caleb puts both hands on his buttocks and squeezes. That’s... that’s unexpectedly fucking hot. Caleb guides his thrusting, massaging into the thick muscle and fat, raising his thigh. “God, Caleb, I’m close.”

“Whenever you’d like,” Caleb whispers, grunting occasionally when Fjord’s bucking pushes him further up the bed. “You’re so handsome, especially like this. You- ah, you deserve this, being so patient with me.”

Fjord’s rhythm slips and his breathing goes ragged and he’s close, he’s so close. The feeling of dull nails against his ass, the hot, slick squeeze against his dick. It pushes him wholly over the edge. He rears up, one hand shoving Caleb’s thighs apart, the other jerking himself off recklessly. He clenches his teeth on a deep cry as finishes across Caleb’s stomach. “Hah, God. Christ.”

“I am neither of those, but thank you for thinking so highly of me,” Caleb says, petting down Fjord’s chest as he feels the sweat cooling on his body. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were clouds of steam pouring off him. “You are beautiful in the grips of orgasm, you know.”

“That’s a—hoo—that’s a mighty loquacious of saying—hah—that you like my o-face,” Fjord gasps, heaving his breaths. He smiles, though, because Caleb is smiling, and the boneless lethargy is creeping in to replace the manic energy of the past few minutes. Best of all, there’s a pleasant buzz covering any and all other thoughts that usually ring around his brain. Fjord slumps over top of Caleb, body to body.

“If we don’t take a shower shortly you are going to have to carry the both of there,” Caleb says, but he’s relaxed and there’s no real urgency in his voice. Fjord quiets him with a kiss and Caleb pushes an errant lock up Fjord’s forehead. “Shortly,” Caleb says, “not immediately.”

**Author's Note:**

> This’ll pick up in Chapter 19


End file.
